Appalachian History – Pathway Journey

November 22, 2024November 21, 2024

A Southern Delight: Nanner Sammijes

Yep, nanner sammij, you heard it right! To those of you in the northern latitudes, I am not speaking in tongues. Nanner sammij is the correct term, pronunciation, and spelling (perhaps) for banana sandwich.

My years in elementary school were in the sixties. Only the spoiled kids had metal Roy Roger lunch boxes. Most of the kids who brought their lunch to school carried it in a brown paper bag. This made for a combination of memory-making aromas.

Nanner sammijes was the frontrunner of the aroma generators. The fruity nanner smell, the aroma of bread, and the microbial growth in the mayonnaise had a multiplied effect. Then all of that Petre dish combination was filtered through a brown bag. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it. It was a unique smell that put wrinkles on my gray matter. When I think of the lunchroom at Duck Springs Elementary School, this peculiar, yet fragrant smell returns.

October 22, 2024October 21, 2024

Old Boots and Ole Friends

Old boots are much like ole friends. They started out a little stiff and perhaps a little awkward. In the beginning, they were not a perfect fit. However, the more time I spent with them, the more we molded as one.

July 23, 2024July 22, 2024

Life-Changing Decision: My Salvation Experience at Eleven

It was a hot July day in Alabama in 1966 and my mother made me wear a shirt I hated. It was one of those shirts that was square bottomed with buttons for adjustment on the two sides. We were headed to our church just up the road, the little caravan was my Mama, my brother Steve, and me.

Summer revival meetings were in full swing with morning and night services. Our country church building was larger than usual. It was built with concrete blocks covered with plaster. It had a tall ceiling. There was no air conditioning at church or home so sweat was the normal life of a Southerner.

My Daddy was at work. Mother never learned to drive, so we walked the short distance to church. I was miserable. The short walk was not my problem, the July heat was just life, the awful shirt was only a secondary torment, because I had been wrestling with God. In our church jargon, we called it conviction. I was under conviction of sin.

September 14, 2023October 25, 2023

Hog Killin’ 1787

Historical Fiction based on the Life of William Whitt (1775-1850), My 3rd-Great-Grandfather

Disclaimer: It’s real cultural history, don’t be squeamish.

It was the last of October and we had the first killing frost near the middle of the month here in Virginia. It was hog killing time and we had three to kill. We always waited for cool weather so the meat wouldn’t spoil before we salted or smoked it for our winter meat.

Our shoats foraged in the nearby woods for about six months before we brought them in for corn fatting for a few weeks. Back in early spring, one of our old sows had farrowed a litter of pigs numbering eight. One died soon after birth when she laid down too fast for the little feller to get out of the way. Some critter stole another one. We ended up with six total with four boars and two gilts.

May 9, 2023May 8, 2023

Mama, Am I an Orphan?

Historical Fiction based on the Life of William Whitt (1775-1850)

I had just started school in the fall of 1781. I noticed right off that all the pupils in my class had a father except me and two others. Being fatherless was all I had ever known. My father died in the War of Independence while they were encamped at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania with General George Washington. I was only about two years old when my father left to fight. I had no lasting memory of him or his dying in the spring of 1778.

March 22, 2023March 22, 2023

Praying for Rain

The year was 1824 and we had moved from Tennessee to the foothills in Alabama after our crops in Tennessee had been gathered in. I had bought 20 acres of land in the valley below the mountain plateau I first crossed with General Jackson in 1812.

When we were settling into the new homestead, we immediately began cutting logs for a small cabin. We figured the land on the downside of the mountain would be the richest ground. So that’s where we cut the first trees for our house, gaining logs, and clearing a cornfield at the same time.

February 8, 2023February 8, 2023

The Wind

Growing up in the South without air conditioning in the 50’s and 60’s was normal for most folks. You do not bemoan the lack of anything if you never have had it; most people in those decades did not have air conditioning in their houses or cars. We had window fans, that gave us a little reprieve on the dog days of summer. Our vehicles had only “4-60” air conditioning—roll all the windows down and drive 60 mph.

January 10, 2023January 9, 2023

Staying Warm (An Analogy)

I was raised in a farmhouse built in the late forties. When I was a teenager, my room was in the very back of the house equipped with a space-heater. I preferred to sleep without the heater. Fortunately, my mother was a quilter, so there was an unlimited supply of quilts. When it was very cold, I slept with a big pile of quilts on me. I felt so warm and cozy under all those quilts. On a rainy winter morning with the rain making music on the metal roof, it was difficult to crawl out and hit the cold floor.

October 25, 2022October 25, 2022

Community

Growing up, I lived three miles up a country road from a major four-lane highway. Traveling up Sand Valley Road as a child of ten years old, I could name every family of every home on that three-mile stretch. Fifty-seven years later, many of those homes are filled with strangers.

June 16, 2022June 16, 2022

For the Men in Grubby Ole Caps

NOTE: Happy Father’s Day! This post is about hardworking men with dirty fingernails because it is Father’s Day, but we love and appreciate hard working women too!

I have an old grubby cap they I usually wear when I’m working outside. It has never been washed and probably never will be. At this point it has its own history. It was promotional cap from a business, so I got it for free. The ole cap is well broke in about like me. There are some frayed threads, stains, and the dark color has faded from the sun and rain. When I eventually throw it away, I will revisit a few memories.